The Immortal Queen

by Jennifer L. Hart

  “They steal for sport, to get one over on the humans. And because this is the way they have always survived. What they possess today might vanish tomorrow.”

  I read between the lines. “You mean, if I don’t pass the gauntlet and reclaim the throne.”

  Nahini’s dark eyes are solemn. “The immortal challenge is much more dangerous than Freda has led you to believe. Many have died or disappeared in the attempt.”

  Frustration bubbles up. “Maybe if you told me what exactly to expect in there, I might survive.”

  The mysterious gauntlet is a challenge I must face in Underhill to become forever young and reclaim the Shadow Throne of the Unseelie Court. All I’ve been told is that a representative from Underhill will come for me when I am adorned with the markings of a gauntleted hopeful. No one has mentioned what sort of challenges I will face and every time I ask I get the same answer.

  The one Nahini gives me with a regretful expression. “We are forbidden from speaking about it.”

  I can’t think about the gauntlet now, not with school looming. “Any suggestions on how to deal with the thieves?”

  “Make an example of them,” Freda says from the door.

  I turn to face my first in command. A tall Viking with golden hair which she wears in an elaborate braid. Her falcon helmet is nowhere in sight and like Nahini, she too is in her form fitting bodysuit. Where Nahini resembles a graceful ballerina, Freda is built like a centerfold. If said centerfold was combat trained with every weapon known to man.

  Her eyes are the same icy blue as the waters that surround the small Nordic fishing village where she was born centuries before and hold just as much warmth when she speaks of the traitors. “You’ve told them you would provide for them year-round and have been good to your word. Their actions undermine everything we are trying to achieve. If there is no punishment, others will follow their example.”

  During my absence—if you can consider death and subsequent rebirth an absence—Freda had been the de facto commander of the Wild Hunt. She knows how to run the day to day command, how to portion out limited resources, how to keep her warriors in check.

  I raise a brow. “What sort of punishment?”

  “Flogging,” she responds right away. “They need their hands for battle otherwise I’d advocate cutting one off, as was done to thieves in olden times.”

  Olden times sound like a bitch and a half. “No.”

  “My queen,” Freda begins.

  I hold up a hand. “I’m not beating them for habits ingrained over a lifetime. I’ve been to Underhill, I’ve seen how little most of the fey have. Stealing is how they’ve procured what they need to survive. I can’t change that mindset overnight. Think of something else.”

  “You mean like mortal incarceration?” Freda scoffs. “A few days of leisure lying abed while everyone around them works? More will follow their example if only for the respite. We’ll lose what little control we have.”

  I glance at my phone, checking the time. “Look, I will take care of this in six and a half hours. Jasmine is waiting for me.”

  Freda’s face softens and she falls into step beside me. “Thank you for including her. She has talked of little else over the past few weeks.”

  “She’s a great kid, if a little misguided about school.” I don’t mention that Jasmine hoped to learn how to read so she could teach her mother. Freda is a proud woman that will show no weakness, not even to someone she considers a friend.

  “I will see to it that Melrock and Gil are put to hard labor for the day.” There’s a sneer when she says it, but at least she’s listening.

  We exit HQ just as a vehicle slows to a stop, kicking up dust in its wake. Aiden is behind the wheel of my battered pick-up truck, with Jasmine on the seat beside him. He hops out when he sees me and bows, his dark hair almost touching the ground. “Your carriage, my queen.”

  “You better stop that,” I say. “You can’t do that in school without drawing attention.”

  He winks, unfazed by my criticism. “I know how to blend in.”

  He does, too. I’ve seen it before, the first day he arrived at school. Every mortal we ran across seemed to know him, though they couldn’t place when or where. It was as though he had always been a character in the background, or maybe part of the scenery.

  When I’d approached him about doing the same for Jasmine so she would have an easier time fitting in with the normals, he’d laughed. “We don’t want her to fit in. We want her to stand out. There’s no faster way to instant popularity in a small school than to be the new kid.”

  “But what about her skill level? She can’t read.”

  “Trust me, Nic. No one will notice.”

  I hope he’s right.

  Aiden hands me the keys and then offers a nod to Freda. “First.”

  “Manwhore,” she curls her lip at him in disgust.

  “Freda,” I say, a warning in my tone. “We talked about this.”

  “Sorry. Wolfwhore.”

  Aiden bares his teeth, his expression not something that could ever be confused with a smile.

  “Freda,” I bark again, physically putting myself between them. “Knock it off. Your daughter is watching.”

  Freda turns to the truck, where Jasmine looks up from braiding her hair on either side of her head to hide her pointed ears. The commander’s lips press together and she nods once.

  I grab Aiden’s arm and tow him to the other side of the truck. “Time to go.”

  His gaze is still locked on Freda and I can tell he’s thinking about tearing her throat out. “She insults my honor.”

  “Aiden,” I touch his cheek. “Please, let it go.”

  His gaze falls to mine. “And yours as well by implying you would accept a faithless traitor.”

  “My honor is just peachy, thanks. And we both know the truth, right?”

  The truth that Aiden had never sworn an oath to Brigit, had never been her consort the way Freda and every other member of the Wild Hunt believes. He’d spent years locked in a cage beside the Fire Throne, the butt of jokes, an object of scorn. And he’d sacrificed his freedom to keep me safe.

  His expression relaxes somewhat, and he brushes his knuckles along my cheek. “We do.”

  “If you tell them the why of it,” I begin.

  Aiden shakes his head. “It won’t make a difference. Freda and I have never gotten along. She blames me for your death.”

  Judging by the haunted look in his eyes, Freda wasn’t the only one who blamed Aiden for my demise.

  “Suit yourself,” I sigh. “We need to go.”

  Aiden presses his lips to my forehead and hands me the keys. “It will be all right, Nic.”

  Easy for him to say. No one would know Aiden was repeating a semester of school. I, on the other hand, went from being the girl no one noticed to the basket case too emotionally distraught to finish tenth grade after her best friend died in a car accident.

  If my intention is to solidify my cover as a drama queen, I’m well on my way.

  The drive to school takes about fifteen minutes. Jasmine peppers us with questions the entire time. So far, her experience with school comes from television and movies, which she takes as gospel. There’s some trouble explaining to her the difference between real life and pretend for entertainment.

  Today she’s focusing on practical musings. Where the cafeteria is located, how long does she have to get from one class to another and should she raise her hand if she knows the answer to a teacher’s question.

  “No,” Aiden and I say in unison.

  “But I might know some answers.” Jasmine glares between us. “I’m not an idiot.”

  “Of course, you’re not.” Jasmine is clever and one of the best fighters I’ve ever seen. I’ve taught her basic cooking and I’ve read to her every night. Already she recognizes a few frequently-used words. Her handwriting is awful, but she’s a quick study.

  “It’s not about if you know the answers,” Aiden cautio
ns her, “What we know to be true might not be the same answers the mortals are used to.”

  “Just watch and listen in the beginning.” I advise her. “We’ll keep practicing your reading at home. You’ll figure it out quickly.”

  “Do I look all right?” She fidgets with her purple and white striped tunic top again, rechecks her braids.

  You better take this one. I think at Aiden. Male approval will go farther.

  “You are radiant as the sun,” Aiden tells her.

  “Really?” Jasmine is blushing, but looks pleased at the compliment.

  “On my honor.” Aiden bobs his head and then thinks at me. You could outshine the stars, my queen.

  Flattery will get you nowhere. But even as I think the words at him, I feel my own face flush.

  All too soon, I park the truck at the edge of the gravel lot. Jasmine watches as students spew from the big yellow buses and funnel into the concrete and brick buildings. Her small hand slips into mine, as though afraid I will disappear in the crowd.

  “You’ll do great.” The words sound hollow in my own ears. She had built this moment up in her head so much, how could reality not disappoint?

  She nods and unwilling to prolong the moment, I pop the door and slide to the ground. Aiden whispers something in her ear and a laugh bursts from her. He opens his own door and offers her a hand and she takes it without hesitation.

  Freda may not trust Aiden, but her daughter has no such reservations.

  Together, the three of us head up the cracked concrete steps and through the open glass doors. The building is already buzzing with noise and activity. Jasmine’s eyes are wide as she tries to take it all in. “There must be a million people here.”

  “Only about four hundred including the teachers,” I correct. In terms of modern day schools, ours is on the small side, with the seventh and eighth grades shoehorned into the same building as the high school.

  “The good news is, this is the first day in the building for all the kids in your grade.” Aiden puts a hand on her shoulder. “You won’t be the only one overwhelmed.”

  Jasmine nods, eyes round.

  “Do you want us to walk you to class?” I ask.

  She shakes her head. “No. Better if I do it on my own.”

  Brave girl.

  The warning bell rings. I put a tentative hand on her shoulder and squeeze. Aiden, who is much more affectionate by nature, wraps one arm around her shoulder. “Remember what I said.”

  Jasmine giggles and then squares her shoulders and trots off.

  “You’re not helping her crush one bit, acting that way.” I glare at him.

  “Jazz knows my heart is devoted only to you.” Aiden smiles fondly after the girl. “It’s innocent and she needs people to be kind to her. We all do.”

  I study him out of the corner of my eye and wonder if he’s talking about me or himself. “Do I want to know what you told her?”

  He drapes an arm over my shoulders, the gesture somehow more intimate than what he’d done with Jasmine. “That if anyone gives her any shit, we know plenty of creatures that would be happy to eat them.”

  A snort escapes. “That’s probably not the best way to deal with conflict.”

  He shrugs and keeps a hold of me as we walk toward homeroom. “Still effective. And it reminds her that someone has her back. She’ll need that today.”

  I notice several people glance our way as we pass by, but the looks of pity I’d been dreading are nowhere in sight. A few smiles, one wave from a girl who’d been in my American History class. It dawns on me that by sticking so close, Aiden’s shielding me from the gossip about Sarah, giving people another bit of fat to chew. At the same time, he’s pretty much staked a claim on me in front of the rest of the school. He might as well have peed a circle around me. “Tricksy wolf.”

  Aiden blinks down at me, the picture of innocence. “What?”

  “Everyone will think we’re going out.”

  He frowns. “Going out where?”

  “No, I mean that you’re my boyfriend.”

  He raises a brow. “And you don’t wish them to have this impression?”

  I shift away, uncomfortable. “Not really.”

  “Then you want to keep me a secret.” His face closes up. “You’re ashamed to be seen with me.”

  “It’s not that.” I hunt for words to explain why I don’t want to make such a public declaration when I feel someone’s eyes on me. It’s not a glance of curiosity like the others. No, this one is malevolent. I peek over my shoulder, trying to spot whoever is making all the fine hairs on the back of my neck stand on end.

  Students passing in the hallways. The glint off Vice Principal Steinburg’s greasy black hair as he speaks with Coach Dunn, who must be pushing seventy but sees no reason to retire. Laughing, talking, yelling. No one paying any special attention to us.

  Still, I feel like I’m being stalked.

  “What’s wrong?” Aiden’s wolf instincts are on high alert, his pique forgotten.

  “I’m not sure. I just feel like we’re being watched. By something... other.” It’s the best explanation I can give.

  He scans the hall with a brief glance that I know misses nothing. “I don’t see anyone out of place. Doesn’t mean no one is here though.”

  I take one more look in the bustling corridor, searching for signs of something unnatural. Magical. Anything that doesn’t belong. Whatever it is, it’s well hidden. “That’s what I’m afraid of.”

  Somebody Call Webster’s

  The morning drags like a dead body through the woods. If I thought my classes inane the first time through, having to repeat them all this semester is a study in mind-numbing boredom.

  “Why won’t they just let me get my GED.” I complain to Aiden as I root my lunch out of the brown paper bag. Same fare as always, almond butter and honey on wheat, an apple and a bottle of water. It looks so normal, set out on the battered cafeteria table. Almost as though the events of last spring didn’t happen.

  Except Aiden is on the other side of the table, not Sarah.

  Aiden, brave soul that he is, opts for a hot lunch. There’s something brown, something gray, and lots of oozing. Not exactly a meal fit for a god. He pokes at the gray stuff with his fork. “Is it really so bad, being here?”

  “Yes,” I wrinkle my nose as he takes a bite. “Ugh. How can you eat that stuff?”

  He shrugs. “It’s better than starving.”

  “Debatable.”

  He holds my gaze, his green eyes hard as emeralds. “Trust me, Nic. Any food is better than starvation.”

  An image surfaces of the first time I’d met Aiden, when I could count his ribs through his bruised and bloodied skin. Shame burns my cheeks. I’d forgotten he’d been half-starved, reduced to trading his body for scraps. “Sorry, I wasn’t thinking.”

  He nods his head, accepting my apology. “That’s part of the reason it’s wise to finish school. You need time to build up your knowledge, not just of Midgard, but all the worlds.”

  I glance down, crumpling the brown bag in one hand. “You’re probably right.”

  He takes the ball of paper from my hand and then laces his fingers through mine. “You were a powerful queen, but an unskilled one who was out of touch with her people and their struggles. You were never cruel, like Brigit, but you hid away from the problems of the Unseelie Court. You did the bare minimum to get by. Learn from those mistakes.”

  I heave a sigh. “Okay. I’ll quit the bitching. It’s probably better that Freda doesn’t have access to me all day every day anyway. There’d be nothing left but a puddle of goo. Sort of like that.” I point at the gray glop on his plate.

  Aiden grins and, holding my gaze, forks up some of the stuff and eats it. “Delicious.”

  I shudder and turn away in time to see of a brown-haired boy a few tables over watching us. His eyes are the color of rich soil, framed by the kind of thick dark lashes most women would kill to possess. He’s small and compact,
obviously in good physical condition, though his clothing is rumpled, as though he slept in it. His hair is messy, too. He’s disheveled and shy. And completely unfamiliar.

  “Aiden,” I say as the boy hastily turns away. “I don’t know him.”

  He sets his fork down, the tray nearly empty. “What? Who?”

  “That boy over there with the dark hair and eyes. He’s new.” In a school the size of ours, one might not have a name to go with every face, but the faces are always familiar. “He was staring at us.”

  Aiden follows my gaze. “He’s sitting with people from eleventh grade. The seventh and eighth graders have a different lunch period, right?”

  I nod. “Besides, look at him. He doesn’t look prepubescent to me.”

  Aiden turns back, his expression intense. “Maybe he’s the source of the scrutiny you detected earlier.”

  But I shake my head. “No. Earlier I knew we were being watched, felt the malevolence of it. I have no idea how long he was looking at us before I noticed him.”

  Aiden stands, and for a moment I think he’s just going to dispose of his tray, but then he looks toward the table. “Stay here. I’m going to go get some answers.”

  I open my mouth to respond but he’s already out of earshot.

  “Nic?”

  I look up to see Gretchen Hamill, the girl who waved to me in the hall earlier, standing before me holding her lunch tray. “Hi Gretchen. Do you want to sit down?”

  She nods eagerly and sets her tray down. Gretchen is what is referred to as a big bodied woman, an unfortunate distinction in high school. She’s smart, most likely going to be valedictorian of our class, as well as kind, but so socially awkward it’s painful for even me to watch.

  Having her here is good cover. And provides a solid distraction so I don’t go nuts wondering what Aiden is doing. “How’s your first day going?”

  Unlike Aiden, she didn’t get the hot lunch. She has a ham and cheese on worthless white bread and pears in syrup so thick it’s more sugar than actual fruit. “Okay. It’s good to see you back in school. I stopped by your family’s clinic once in the spring, but it looked all closed up. I thought maybe you guys had moved.”